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.The Draka turned and smiled at her.Lovely scent she has now, she thought.Almost as mellow as aservus's.And a beautiful glow to her skin, as if the being within were shining through the humanenvelope.She patted the woman on the stomach with a surge of protective affection.Somebody's harassing us again, Gwen said, taking the paper from her.Considering the sweetenerswe've spread out, somebody with influence.or a great deal of money, or both.Vulk Dragovic came through the door in time to hear her.The enemy? the security chief said.Probably.It's a little subtle for one of them, though.She paused.Again, he could be acting through localagents.Idid leave a bit of a trail when I first came through, and no doubt he could convince some others.We know he's contacted some of the local police, although not how much he's told them.Another pause.We'll have to look into that.There are certain obvious leads.that policeman, for instance.Thecomputers don't show anything, but that's meaningless with a Samothracian involved.Meanwhile, get thispaperwork squared away.I'll see to it, the Californian said, with a weary sigh.It'd be easier on the west coast, or back in theBahamas.Yes, but the signaler wouldn'twork in either of those places, probably, she said, handing over the form.Get right on it, Tom.Vulk, have you finished the postings?Yes, the Serb said, jerking a nod.All approaches covered.There were some difficulties, but theweapons will be within reach, despite the Americans.Gwen stretched and rose.Then that's everything for this evening.Go wait for me in the room, Vulk; I'llbe having you tonight.The Serb's darkly aquiline features flushed as he left the room, a combination of hatred and longing.Alice chuckled, with a touch of malice.I don't think Vulk likes being the girl, she said with a sly smile.Gwen stopped for a moment.Then she laughed.I see what you mean, she said.Well, he's just lucky itwasn't a male of my species that got dropped through, isn't he?She was still laughing and unbuttoning her jacket as she walked through the door.***You're having all that? Louisa Englestein said.Damned right, Jennifer said.She speared a french fry with her fork and ate it slowly, then took a bite from the pastrami sandwich,savoring the rich flavors.Chez Laurencedid have them, if you asked.She hummed a little under her Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlbreath.Don't tell me, Louisa said.You got laid.Jennifer looked at a french fry with an elaborate expression of innocence, then ate it, slowly.No.Not the Italian cop?Henry.And he's more than an ethnic identifier and a job, you know.He's a sweet guy.And smart.Louisa rolled her eyes.Puh -leez.Sweet? Oi vey gevalt, this is worse than I thought.Think of what yourmother would say.Don't be sarcastic.Heis a sweet guy; not only did he call, but roses, no less, today.Pass the ketchup.Louisa looked at her.How long have you been off the diet? she said.A few months since the Bahamas.But you'velost weight, I'd swear.Twelve pounds, Jennifer said, and patted her stomach.All from the right places, too.And for once, itwasn't a 'tits go to China, tummy stays' loss, either.My god, how did you manage that?My secret, she said, and nibbled on a pickle.I've been working out more.She had, too somehow shefelt more energetic.Maybe that's what I needed, fuel.So, how did the Bahamas turn out? You had a bad feeling about it.Strange, Really strange.Like a visit out of the world, somehow.But the money's there.This is going tobebig, Louisa.The pastries came, several of them.Louisa watched incredulously as Jennifer bit into one.What was the mysterious Ms.Ingolfsson like?Even stranger.Really forceful personality, and die-you-bitch-die gorgeous.In a very odd way.sortof like the most dangerous jock elf you ever saw.Oh, come on now, Jenny in Danielle Steel, maybe, you get gorgeous seductresses starting wildlysuccessful companies and making a mint before they're forty.Even in the romances they're mainly incosmetics.Jennifer shrugged.If you only knew how seductive.There were some things, however, that you didn'ttell even your best friends.Every once in a while, truth has to be stranger than fiction, she said.*** Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlWelcome to the Fortress of Solitude, Henry Carmaggio muttered under his breath.The reception room was empty except for standard office furniture, a stack of used magazines and oneof the new voice-recognition computer receptionists.Henry hated them; it was like talking to ananswering machine.although come to think of it, Lafarge probably had one that could do literarycriticism, or even something really difficult like ordering Chinese and making sure the restaurantunderstood not to add MSG.Fortress of Solitude?The voice came out of the air.Carmaggio hid a start.Local reference, the detective said.He went through the door behind the desk of the non-existent receptionist and through a corridorflanked by storerooms.Up a flight of iron stairs, and then past a plain bedroom and another, larger spacefitted out as a gym.The workroom occupied most of the rear of the building, full of tables and conduitsand enigmatic shapes on overhead trackways; Lafarge was bending over a mechanical shape held in aclamp.Something almost familiar lay on a cloth spread across a bench nearby.It's a plasma gun, Lafarge said, without looking up from the workbench.I'm making a number of them.Henry picked up a finished model, keeping his hands well away from the trigger assembly.It was aboutthe length of a short rifle, with a butt-plate at the rear and a short stubby barrel at the front.He swung itup to his shoulder, and a LCD display just in front of his eye came live.A red dot appeared on the wall,moving as his hands pivoted the weapon.This'll bring her down? he asked.Quite effectively.There's a range next door, and a target set up.Henry took the hint.Lafarge's workroom gave him a mild set of the creeps, anyway.Not that he knewmuch about laboratory equipment, but he couldrecognize it.A lot of the stuff around him was perfectlyordinary high-tech gear.Among it were.differences.Melted-looking apparatus that gave no clue to itsfunction except that thingshappened.One was about the size of an attache case, with flanged pans oneither side.The left-hand pan held an assortment of materials: coins, small ingots, bundles of wire.Thepile shifted occasionally, as if bits were disappearing from beneath.Something was forming on the otherpan, small and complex and precise.It's a faber a fabricator, Lafarge said, following Henry's eyes.He could do that, somehow, withoutlooking up.Just a portable model.What I wouldn't give for a full-scale industrial type! As it is, I'm using itfor the absolute essentials and relying on local components for the rest.I'll be through here in a minute.The detective walked through into the long target range.A rack held local weapons, mostly highly illegal;a Barrett.50 sniper rifle, assault weapons, a couple of machine guns, high-capacity handguns.Ammunition was stored below.At the other end of the narrow room was a metal plate, with outlinessketched on it.Human figures, for the most part, and something that looked like a giant baboon with aknife.He brought the plasma weapon to his shoulder.It balanced remarkably well, easy and precise.That put Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlhis eye behind what he'd assumed was an optical sight.Instead it was some sort of video display, veryclear.The targets leaped up to within apparent arm's length of him, much more brightly lit than the ratherdim background.Slick, he muttered.He steadied the red dot on the chest of an outline, and his finger stroked the triggerwith remembered gentleness.CRACKHenry sprang back with a yell, almost dropping the weapon
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